After Fiona missed the next day, and didn't say or remember anything about our nighttime chorus, I began to do some exploring on my own. I was scared; I stopped talking to anyone, because I didn't want the school to know what I had done. I didn't know what to do, and I was a nervous about what was going to happen to me. I did the math in my head, and figured that I had about 15 days until my next 'sick day' I have decided to document all this, just in case I forget it. If you are reading this (this sounds like such a cliché, doesn't it?) I'm probably dead no not really, but I might have failed grade ten, or been expelled or something. More likely I'll just think I made this up for a lark.
So now I have a little journal, which I have backed up in five or six different places. One, wait, no. I won't tell you. You may have found one, but I will not tell you where the rest are. But I didn't make any of this up. You have to believe me. I'm going to find out what is going on (cue the x-files music in my head) no matter what.
Today we had science. I sat in the back, and tried not to look at the teacher. Thank God there are only humans on staff. It was hard to act normal, because I've just realized something very important. There is absolutely no one I can go to with this. If I tell a student, the next time they are sick I will be found out. For something this important to be going on, I am convinced that they must know too. The most likely person to reveal my secret is probably me. If the staff can make a student suddenly forget everything that happens to student over that one day, then they can surely find out what I am thinking. I now have 12 days to figure out what to do. I just don't know.
Middle of the night, and I have insomnia. I can't stop thinking about what is happening. I woke up a few hours ago from a horrible nightmare, I was being chased through the hall, and the bells were all there, the ones from the song. But they were not saying anything to me, they were just laughing. All laughing, and then I was trapped and I couldn't find my way out, and I was lost, and then I heard footsteps coming closer and closer, and all this time the bells just kept on fucking laughing!
Of course! That's the key! Dreams are the key. I will ask everyone what the dreamt about and pay special attention to those after sick days. I won't bother recording my dreams from now on though; I know full well what that was about.
It is morning, and I am late for class. Must be quick. Fi dreamed about bells, coincidence? She also went down a dark tunnel. Don't know, will think later. LATE!
During lunch I got the whole table talking, using the excuse that I had had a weird dream. When you tell your own story, people generally contribute too. Only three seemed promising-
Being dragged down a long dark tunnel (underground? Good place for a secret mind scanner or whatever the hell they call them)
Forgetting all about your homework, life, friends, and having everyone forget you. This may be school stress; it is just about exams (I should really study.)
Best of all being kidnapped by giant lobsters (farfetched) and dragged through a secret tunnel behind a bookcase! Finally, something to work with. Unfortunately there is a bookcase in every single classroom in the school, probably for just that reason. I'll ask around some more.
In history today we learned about the third world war. I can never remember whether the battle of the Seaenn Tower took place in Toronto or North Bay. Since the tower itself was destroyed during the attack, I don't know where it used to be. Maybe I'll do a search online. Maybe I'll look up the history of Oranges and Lemons while I'm at it. In Civics we studied the Employ of Liberties. I checked specially, but memory wiping was not addressed as a violation of human rights (do those apply to Icthyos?) Supposedly when it was written that was not an issue. I hope someone does something about it. If they don't, I will. If I remember. Maybe it wasn't included because the memory wipers wiped the people who were supposed to put that part in, so that they didn't care. Bit of a catch 22. Tomorrow is Jenna's second sick day of the month. I'm getting closer and closer. It's time to look at bookcases.
I have spent the whole day sneaking around, testing bookcases, trying not to be seen by teachers. I asked Fi to tell the history teacher I had a migraine, and to get my notes. She brought me a whole pile of papers about the war, and the use of India's biological weapons. I must read it over sometime. Apparently I need to memorize their side effects for the exam. There must be about ten, and the only ones I know are asphyxiation, if you got a heavy dose, or fetal mutations, if anyone happened to be pregnant within a few miles of a battlefield. And if the initial blast didn't kill them.
The best thing that I noticed today was a small fruit bowl painted on the cafeteria wall, filled only with oranges and lemons. It is my best lead so far. Unfortunately, there are no bookshelves in the cafeteria, or anywhere nearby, for that matter. I have 11 days left. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.
I realized something else about the dreams. Every one who had a dream always dreamed about the school, all the time. Usually in dreams there are other places, like home or the beach, but no student who I talked to had a distinguishable backdrop other than in the school building. This makes me wonder how much I have actually experienced, and how much was implanted. I ought to have more than a misty memory of home; I spent the first part of my life there, after all. Ten days left. Only ten days. Only ten.